


Something to Crow About

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Angst, Crack, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rodney and John are roosters with angsty backstories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to Crow About

**Author's Note:**

> For more bird fic, please check out the following:
> 
> [Owl!verse](http://archiveofourown.org/works/498623/chapters/874315), by beckersher
> 
> [With Feathers](http://sga-flashfic.livejournal.com/680096.html?thread=24172960), by aesc
> 
> [Antarctic Drift](http://lavvyan.livejournal.com/83832.html), by lavvyan
> 
> [...Till A' The Seas Gang Dry...](http://archiveofourown.org/works/108682), by moth2fic
> 
> [The Houseguests (or Birds of a Feather)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028513), by MrsHamill

  


* * *

Rodney did his best to look disinterested, which wasn’t easy with a brood of hens oohing and aahing over the new guy. Oh sure, he was pretty: all shiny black and red, with ridiculously oversized tail feathers and powerful looking legs. But he was probably all flash, no substance. Not like Rodney, who’d been alpha rooster and doing just fine, thank you very much. He hadn’t lost a single hen on his watch. Not one.

“Come on, Rodney. Come meet John. It’s okay.” Jeannie, the farmer’s daughter, tried to coax him over. She was sitting cross-legged in the grass, holding John on her lap. 

Yeah, no. Rodney ostentatiously turned his back, head held high. Nothing short of mealworms would get him to turn around now. The new guy didn’t say anything, just accepted all the adoration as if it was his due. Jerk.

Why did things have to change?

*o*o*o*

“You’re not being very friendly,” Sam chastised. She settled more firmly in her nest, eggs neatly covered and hidden from view.

“It’s not my job to be friendly.”

“He’s part of the family now. And you heard what Jeannie said. He’s been through a lot.”

“Who hasn’t?” Rodney shot back. He scratched at the straw-covered wood floor, irritated. Jeannie had talked John up for days prior to his arrival at the farm, so they all knew how he’d been rescued from cock fighting and rehabilitated so he could be around others of his kind without hurting them. Well, they all had sob stories. The farmer had made this place a haven for animals from bad circumstances. That didn’t make John special at all.

“You don’t have to like him, Rodney. But at the very least you can be civil. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“He hasn’t done anything _yet_. Not every animal can be saved. You weren’t here when that cat went crazy, but I remember it all too well.” It had taken him a while to grow those feathers back, and it had been humiliating in the meantime.

“Fine,” Sam snapped, her beak clicking. “Ignore him. Be all smug and alpha. Just think about this: maybe you being nice to John will be the one thing that keeps him from turning feral.”

The problem with hens, Rodney thought as he stalked back out into the yard, was that they could never just mind their own business. And if Sam felt that way, as the dominant female it meant all the others did too. Well, he’d be nice. But he wanted it noted that he was doing so under extreme protest.

*o*o*o*

John was perched on a fence rail, wings spread wide as he soaked up the warm summer sun. His plumage really was quite attractive, though he didn’t have much of a comb to speak of. Rodney watched him for a long moment, noting how relaxed the other bird looked, how contented he smelled.

“See something you like?” John asked in a lazy drawl. He blinked his dark eyes open and looked down at Rodney.

“All that sun isn’t good for you, you know.” Rodney forgot he was supposed to be nice, confused by the tone of John’s voice. “If you’re trying to bake yourself, the oven in the house would be quicker.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

Maybe it was Rodney’s imagination, but John seemed to become boneless somehow as he perched there, wings spreading even farther. It was disconcerting.

“So, uh. I just wanted to officially welcome you to Atlantis Farm.”

“Thanks.”

“And, you know. If you feel like you might need help with your anger management or anything, you should really give me a heads up.”

John shook out his wings, and the feeling coming off him instantly morphed from content to frustrated. “You don’t have to worry about me.” He flew down from the rail and landed gracefully on his feet. That close Rodney could see the scars on his legs that spoke of his past life.

“I didn’t mean –”

“I know what you meant.”

John stalked off and Rodney sighed. That hadn’t gone at all the way he’d intended. That was the last time he took advice from Sam.

*o*o*o*

“Whatcha doing?”

Rodney glanced over at John, and settled himself further in Jeannie’s lap. “If you must know, we’re watching _Doctor Who_. It’s a television show. I don’t have time to explain it.”

It was his favorite part of the week. Jeannie would bring out her portable TV, and some mealworms, and they’d watch something together. It wasn’t always _Doctor Who_ , but that was his favorite. As a rooster he knew he’d never get beyond the confines of the farm, but he couldn’t help imaging what else might be out there in the wide world, not to mention the universe. Besides certain death, of course.

“I know what a television show is. My trainer used to watch telenovelas.”

Rodney wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He hadn’t talked to John since that day at the fence, and he was surprised that the other bird was bringing up his past since he seemed so sensitive about it. Rodney couldn’t imagine what that was like, being forced into fights that had nothing to do with protecting the family.

“John!” Jeannie sounded delighted. “Would you like to join us? We’re watching the Doctor.”

John looked at Rodney uncertainly. It was in no way endearing. Rodney ruffled his feathers a bit, and gave a little squawk of approval. He made some room and John settled in beside him on Jeannie’s lap. After a moment’s hesitation, Rodney plucked a worm out of the little plastic cup and dropped it in front of John.

“Thanks.” John sounded completely sincere, but he cocked his head at Rodney as if he was confused. 

“The rest are mine,” Rodney said defensively. “So don’t go making goo-goo eyes at Jeannie.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They watched the rest of the episode in silence, and if Rodney contradicted himself and gave John a few more worms, well, it wasn’t like Jeannie was going to tell anyone.

*o*o*o*

Rodney honestly thought John was starting to fit in. And then he went and made friends with the dogs.

“Are you insane?” Rodney had already shooed the hens and chicks back in the henhouse, for safety’s sake, and now he was guarding the door. Not that he stood much of a chance if they decided to attack.

Ronon, the bigger of the two dogs, was the size of a small horse, and covered in wiry gray fur. His tongue was lolling out of a mouth filled with enormous teeth, and Rodney had no trouble imagining how easily that jaw could snap him in two. He’d seen Ronon on his hind legs once, and he was bigger than the farmer.

“We will not hurt you,” the smaller dog said. Teyla was one of those hairy miniature sheepdogs. No less dangerous, but at least Rodney could more or less look her in the eye.

“They’re here to keep an eye on things, Rodney, just like us.”

“Yes, well, you weren’t here when Todd tried to eat me.”

Ronon chuffed. “He was a cat.”

“Thank you for that astute observation.” Rodney scratched in the dirt, just a reminder that he had his own set of claws and he wasn’t above using them. “Why are you in our yard? You never come over here.”

“John thought it would be nice for all of us to be properly introduced, since we are all working towards the same goal.” Teyla got down on her belly and rested her muzzle on her front paws. 

Rodney appreciated the gesture but he still wasn’t about to let down his guard. And he could see where John was coming from. Making friends with the local muscle was sound reasoning – if they knew his name, the names of the hens and chicks, then presumably they’d be more apt to spring into action if there was ever a threat.

“We will come back another time,” Teyla said. “When you have a chance to think about things.”

“Yes, let’s do that.” Rodney was relieved. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up his posturing, especially with John being amused instead of impressed.

“Later,” Ronon said. He loped off, Teyla having to put on extra speed just to keep up with her long-legged companion.

“Can we come out now?” Sam called from the henhouse. 

“The coast is clear,” Rodney called back. He let his feathers settle, now that the need to puff himself up was gone. 

“They’re pretty cool for dogs, right?” John asked. 

“I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t spring that kind of thing on me,” Rodney said. He gave John a disdainful look. “As alpha rooster –”

John flapped his wings. “I know, I know. Jeez, Rodney. Lighten up.”

Sam walked past, chuckling. “Good luck with that.”

“Don’t you have eggs to sit on?” Rodney shot back. Sam just shook her tail feathers at him.

*o*o*o*

As summer progressed on the farm, there were a lot of changes. Normally Rodney was against that; there was comfort in routine. But these weren’t so bad.

John became a regular on TV days, and he liked the same kinds of shows that Rodney did, so they had plenty to talk about between episodes. In fact, Rodney started spending a lot of time with John, just talking or sharing dirt baths or rooting around for bugs. He learned that John’s biggest regret in life was never getting to really fly the way the wild birds did, the ones who hadn’t had their wings clipped. Rodney secretly thought he’d look amazing soaring around like some kind of hawk on the wind.

Ronon and Teyla became regulars around the yard. The chicks especially loved the big dog, who’d lay down and let them clamber all over him. The hens had been as dubious as Rodney at first, but as the visits increased in frequency they soon relaxed. Ronon was like a big, hairy babysitter and the hens soon started taking advantage of their extended personal time.

“Have you always been here?” John asked Rodney one day.

Rodney dipped his head. “No. Not always.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Weasels.” Rodney had been little more than a hatchling at the time, but he remembered it in crisp detail. “Killed almost the whole brood, and all but one of the chicks.”

“Sorry.” John threw a wing over him. 

“It was a long time ago. Besides, I like it here.”

“This is a good place,” John agreed. “My trainer kept me chained up between fights. It’s nice just having the freedom to move around.”

Rodney couldn’t help wondering at the circumstances that had led them both to this place, a safe haven where they could live out their lives without fear or containment. He knew how lucky they were. He’d heard the farmer talking to Jeannie about places that kept chickens in little cages their whole lives, just harvesting their eggs. Or else injecting them to make them fat enough to sell for meat. 

“I’m glad the farmer saved you,” he said impulsively, and then turned his face away, embarrassed.

John bumped heads with him. “Me too, buddy.”

*o*o*o*

It had been raining all day, which was good for bringing the worms up but made everything a muddy mess. Much of the evening hours had been spent grooming feathers and dunking the chicks in the large bowl of water Jeannie had left them for bathing in. Everyone was tired and turned in early.

The coy dogs came well past dark. If not for the squelching sound of their paws in the mud, Rodney wouldn’t have heard them at all. He called out the alarm just before they started scrabbling at the door.

“Up top! Go!” Rodney instructed fervently. “Sam, you know what to do.”

Just because the farm was normally a safe place didn’t mean that Rodney wasn’t prepared for things to go horribly wrong. While the hens got safely to the higher perches, Sam herded the chicks into a special compartment in the corner that was in effect a very small panic room. Sam got the chicks tucked away and then stood her ground, chest puffed out

“Get help!” she said fiercely. 

Rodney was already on his way through the one-way flap on the roof, calling out to the farm at large. But John was already there, Rodney could hear his shrill cries and the yelping of the coy dogs. When he finally got to where he could see what was happening he nearly had a heart attack.

There were two coy dogs, ribs showing; they’d be more stubborn about sticking around for a free meal. And John was down there by himself, flying at them with his claws forward and then dodging out of the way when they snapped at him.

Rodney gave a mighty crow and dropped from the roof, right on the back of one of the carnivorous bastards. He dug his claws in and used his beak to try and crack the beast’s skull.

The other coy dog, face scratched and bleeding, was finally able to connect. It swatted John right out of the air and he went down in a flurry of feathers.

“John!” Rodney cried. He wanted to help, but he wasn’t about to lose what grip he had on the bucking, snarling beast beneath his feet.

Suddenly the air was full of barks and snarls, and for a moment Rodney was sure the rest of the pack had come and he was about to nobly sacrifice himself for the good of the brood. But it was Teyla and Ronon, running to the rescue, and all that noise was sure to rouse the farmer as well. Hope was not lost.

Ronon got between John and the other coy dog, who had the good sense to look intimidated by the sheer size of his opponent. Gone was the friendly hound that let the chicks play King of the Mountain on him. In his place was a fierce stranger, teeth bared and hackles raised as he growled low in his throat.

Teyla was no less fierce despite her smaller stature. She ran literal circles around the coy dog Rodney was still attached to, biting its legs and hind quarters and muzzle like a furry fury.

“Go,” she said between bites. “See about John.”

Rodney gave the coy dog one last rap on the head and flew off. His claws were bloody but he didn’t care, all of his attention was on the still form of his friend.

“John?” He didn’t realize how close they’d gotten in the weeks since the other bird’s arrival on the farm, but the thought of not having him around anymore was like a physical pain. “John?”

Behind him the fight escalated. Ronon and the coy dog that John had marked were wrestling, each trying to rip out the others’ throat. Teyla was losing ground as well, and there was blood showing on her white fur. Rodney wanted to stay with John but he knew what his responsibilities were, and foremost he had to protect the brood.

He flew into the face of the coy dog that was nipping at Teyla, going for the eyes. The animal howled in pain and Rodney narrowly avoided getting captured in its maw. His adrenalin was racing and he was furious, not just on behalf of John, and the hens and chicks under his protection, but for all those who’d died when he was too young to do anything.

“Circle of life my ass!” he squawked. He swooped in for another rake of claws, and then gunfire cut through the sounds of battle. The farmer had arrived.

“Ronon! Teyla! Heel!”

The dogs responded immediately, leaving the fray to stand beside the farmer, sides heaving from exertion. He shot the coy dog Ronon had been fighting, but the other ran off like the coward it was. 

“Good luck hunting with one eye!” Rodney called after it.

“Good dogs,” the farmer said. He gave both Ronon and Teyla a scratch behind the ears. “Good job. And good work, Rodney.”

“Is everyone okay?” Jeannie called from some distance away.

“Dogs’ll need patching up, and I need to check the chickens. You better come see about John.”

Jeannie came running out of the darkness, flashlight in one hand and robe flapping open over her pajamas. “Oh, no!” She dropped to her knees and put a gentle hand on John’s fallen body. “He’s still breathing!”

Rodney let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Before he could move closer, and see for himself, Jeannie had scooped John up and was running back towards the house with him. He tried to follow but the farmer shooed him back into the henhouse.

“Calm your girls down, Rodney. You did good.”

“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Ronon promised before the door closed and Rodney was surrounded by terrified hens.

*o*o*o*

It was three days before John returned to the yard, wing bandaged but otherwise unharmed. Rodney hung back, let the hens have their moment to flood him with their thanks for his heroism. They’d already clamored around Ronon and Teyla, who were now even more like superheroes in the eyes of the chicks.

Rodney didn’t mind everyone else getting the attention. Sam had gotten the story out of him that same night, and he’d ended up falling asleep surrounded by a grateful brood. It had been nice, and certainly gratifying, but he’d been on edge until Jeannie carried John back down from the house.

When the others finally left the two of them alone, Rodney was feeling unaccountably shy. “You okay?”

“Nothing a little time won’t heal,” John said dismissively. “You were pretty amazing. The way you just dropped down from the roof like that? It was pretty badass.”

“Yeah?” Rodney bobbed his head, pleased. “Well, I can see why they wanted you on the fighting circuit. You were pretty badass yourself.”

“Just protecting what’s important. To, uh, the farm.” John ducked his head.

“Oh, yeah. You know. Me too.” A warm feeling was spreading through Rodney, and he couldn’t help smiling. He’d been part of life on the farm for over two years but it was only now that it really felt like home. “I’ve been saving some corn. You hungry?”

“Peckish.”

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny.” Rodney rolled his eyes, but there was no stopping the good feelings that were washing over him. 

It turned out that change could be for the better, after all.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** I know what you’re thinking. Roosters? Is she serious? I don’t even know how this happened. I was driving home from work, there was a tractor, I was thinking about farms, and then SGA roosters popped into my head. And not just regular roosters, oh no. Mine had to have angsty backstories.
> 
> My friends begged me not to do the thing, but I couldn’t NOT do the thing. And so here’s the thing. ::grins:: Now maybe I can get back to the stuff I’m supposed to be working on.


End file.
